


The Omega Alliance

by Xyl_3



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, Stiles Stilinski is a Winchester, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Werewolf Jackson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:22:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 10,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyl_3/pseuds/Xyl_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about how Stiles meets his family, learns a skill, loses his pack, makes a friend, changes the world, and finally comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trust

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sort of blending supernatural werewolf lore with teen wolf werewolf lore and a tiny bit of Buffy werewolf lore. Also, the Supernatural timeline is questionable.

John Stilinski loved his son more than anything.

Life had been hard after Claudia died. He'd floundered and grieved and done his very best to raise a kid by himself. He liked to think he did well. Stiles was a good kid; a good person. He got in trouble fairly often; he mouthed off and got in everyone's business and made his share of stupid choices, but he was smart and generous and loyal.

They had settled into a routine after a while. It wasn't perfect, but then neither were they. John drank a little too much and worked too much and maybe he'd taken Stiles's maturity for granted on occasion. Stiles had never really embraced the concept of honesty or personal safety, but they'd trusted each other.

The worst part is, he wasn't even sure when it changed. Scott had gotten better at sports and worse at school (and better with girls.) There'd been violent attacks throughout the town. John had worked more. Stiles had started showing up at crime scenes with alarming frequency. Not as a suspect, exactly, but just already being there. Stiles started getting injured. Really, severely injured with nothing but lies in explanation. Somewhere along the way, John stopped being able to trust Stiles.

John had known it was bad, known everything was terrible, but what had really driven it home was seeing his son turn to Derek Hale for comfort. Derek Hale, who Stiles had gotten arrested for the murder of his own sister. Derek Hale, who looked as approachable as a wounded tiger. Derek Hale, who his son trusted.

Because Stiles, for whatever reason, no longer trusted his father either. And that was worse than a thousand worst case scenarios. John was disappointed he couldn't trust Stiles, but he was  _devastated_ his son couldn't trust him.  
*

He finally called Claudia's nephews. He hadn't seen the boys in years, but Dean had written him the very occasional letter with updates. John had always had a number to reach him at, in case of emergencies.

He didn't think this was the sort of situation Dean had been referring too, but the boy, man now, had practically raised his brother after Mary had died. He was steady without being restrictive, and John thought Stiles would feel comfortable with someone a little less Sheriff, a little more bad boy.

******

"What's the family motto, man?" Dean knew that if Sammy looked up the actual family motto it would probably be something dumb like 'always moving' or something profound like 'defender' or even something practical like 'kill it before it kills you'. (Dean kind of liked the Addams Family's 'we gladly feast on those that would subdue us' even if it was kind of dark. Dean figured he'd earned his darkness fair and square.) But Dean knew that a motto was a thing you lived by more than a thing you said, and now that the family was just him and Sammy, it was pretty obvious what they lived by.

"Family first," Sam kind of groaned. Dean knew he agreed, he was just pissed he'd have to do the legwork on their next case alone while Dean took his baby out to California to have a heart to heart with Aunt Claudia's son.


	2. Role Models

Stiles was not happy with any of this. He had known things were bad with his dad, but not 'send you away in the middle of the night' bad. And, okay, it wasn't the middle of the night, exactly, but there hadn't been much warning, and he'd never actually met these cousins he was supposed to go with. Plus, Scott was at Lacrosse camp (for first string only, which Stiles was only a little bit bitter about, because just because he was finally good enough, no supernatural powers needed, doesn't mean he needed to be jealous of his best friend for  _not_ getting kidnapped and beat up and summarily re-assigned to bench warming. At all. Even if it was kind of Scott's fault.) with Issac and Derek was off doing Alpha stuff so he didn't really get to say goodbye to anyone, even if he might get to come back at the start of term. 

 *

And okay, wow, his cousin was apparently super hot. Not in like, a creepy incestuous way, just like "Hey, where did you get those muscles and why do I not have any even though we share genetics?" Even if he'd already ogled his cousin in front of Danny. That was Derek and therefore not actually incestuous no matter what they were saying at the time. Stiles was 100% incest free.

Speaking of weird similarities to "Miguel', his real cousin also had a leather jacket and frowny eyebrows (although they're nothing compared to Derek's) and a huge, beautiful sex symbol of a black car. Stiles bit down on the urge to ask if Dean is also a werewolf, because  _seriously_ , but he'd rather not end up institutionalized.

  
*

There was a guy asleep in the backseat of Dean's car. (Stiles might have thought Derek's car was hotter, but holy fuck was this one more functional.) He looked kind of like a rumpled accountant, and Stiles was weirdly thrown by him. Dad had told him he was staying with brothers, but this wasn't what he was expecting.

"That's Cas," Dean's voice explained gently. "You can throw your bags on the seat next to him. He won't mind. The trunk's not really fit for company."

"Thanks."

Stiles stayed silent for a while after that. It probably wasn't that long in the grand scheme of things, but ten minutes was a long time for Stiles to be quiet and this silence stretched on for a short eternity.

"So where are we going?" Stiles finally asked.

"I left Sammy In Colorado to come pick you up, so we're headed back there." He paused, then switched gears. "So, your dad says you're mixed up in some kind of trouble. What is it? Sex, drugs, violence?"

Dean didn't really sound accusatory (more like gossipy) but Stiles wasn't really about to give Dean the werewolf talk. "Prank war gone wrong. I got caught stealing a police van and locking a classmate in it, so...awkward."

Dean raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Ballsy."

"That's me," Stiles offered weakly.

Dean snorted, but the ice was definitely broken and the conversation turned to classic rock and the perfection of diner food. (Pie for Dean and curly fries for Stiles, obviously.)


	3. Impressions

Castiel was Dean's boyfriend. He never really lost that rumpled, overworked, straight laced, business professional look, even when he wasn't sleeping in the backseat of a car. 

His whole personality reminded Stiles a little of Peter, only not in a creepy homicidal pervert way. So, not actually like Peter at all, upon reflection.

Cas was insanely strong. Stiles thought thought this was saying a lot, because he spent formative time around werewolves, okay? But werewolves at least all looked ripped and chiseled to advertise. Cas looked slim and tired, and then unblinkingly did things that would make werewolves think twice.

It was incredibly unsettling. Also, cool.

In other weird news about Cas, the guy seemed to just appear and disappear without any explanation. Like, the first time they'd met, he'd slept in Dean's backseat for like five hours, been awake for one, and then had gotten out at the next stop and never come back. Dean had shrugged it off, and sure enough, Cas had shown up in Colorado a few days later, again with no explanation or, as far as Stiles could tell, car. He'd stay for a while, and then, bam!, gone again.

 *

Sam was kind of a big dork. Stiles said that fondly, as a lover of smart people and obscure facts, but Dean wasn't wrong. Stiles didn't have the full story, but Sam had gone to Stanford for a while before something happened and he dropped out. He'd never gone back, but he was clearly still smart and driven.

Stiles and Sam sometimes got into rambling, philosophical did-you-know contests. Dean would roll his eyes and complain, but he would occasionally offer throwaway comments that were impressively on point. Stiles wasn't particularly surprised, because he knew you didn't have to be overly intellectual to be smart, and Dean was  _definitely_ smart.

It was weird, because even though he had so much in common with Sam, when he thought about him, he put him in the Scott category. Sam was just so...nice. Excitable and earnest with soulful eyes and awkward features that managed to come together into an attractive whole.

 *

Dean was...okay, whatever. Dean was  _so cool_. Like, seriously, wtf, how do you  _even_? Stiles was just saying, but normally 'cool' felt like one of those words that should really only apply in the context of school or movies, but Dean was a real person in the real world. He was approachable and charming and secretly kind, even when he was being a dick.

Dean had a hot bod and a leather jacket and a sexy car, but even though he should look at him and see Derek, who he really saw in Dean was himself. It was something about the way he interacted with Sam. Dean looked like a guy that would never give up on someone he loved, and that was Stiles all over. Plus, for all that he gave a few "no chick flick" speeches, Dean mothered the shit out of not only Sam, but Stiles and even Cas on the sly.

It made him feel guilty, because even though he still wasn't happy with his Dad shipping him off, and even though Stiles had been pulling away and getting in trouble and ruining his dad's life, his dad hadn't sent him away just to get rid of him. He'd sent him to people he'd known Stiles would like, and who would hopefully be good for him, and he'd been right. Stiles vowed, yet again, to at least  _try_ to be a better son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. The chapters should start getting longer as the plot gets going.


	4. Madison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even pretending to make these timelines work. Mostly it's just the Castiel stuff that is messed up, I think, but basically I advise that you don't look too closely at the Winchester order of events.

Ironically, Stiles didn't find out what the brothers did in Colorado. He didn't even find out as soon as they hit Frisco. He was minding his own business, reading the paper in the motel when he came across the "animal attacks". And hey, whatever, civic duty, so he tracked it down while the brothers were out selling encyclopedias or something.

And he walked in on Sam and a totally gorgeous lady (who was obviously the werewolf) crying and a gun.

"Woah!" Stiles yelled. "Woah, woah, woah, what the fuck!"

Dean melted out of the other room  _like a ninja_  and said "It's okay, it's not what it looks like."

And the girl said "I'm a werewolf."

And Stiles said "So what?"

And everyone stared at Stiles like  _that_ was the weird thing to say.

"I like werewolves!" Stiles (sort of) justified.

"This isn't Twilight," Dean sneered in reprimand. "Werewolves are dangerous."

"Um, duh," Stiles shot back, "but so are people with guns."

The werewolf smiled wetly at him and said "It's alright, I asked him to. I can't control it and I don't want to hurt anyone else."

Oh. Well, that made sense (and it definitely made Stiles's otherwise cool cousins less douchey than they were looking), but "Um, dude, look, you were bitten, right? Probably a bite and run or you'd have a pack."

All three of them looked confused but the girl nodded hesitantly. "I got mugged and then I guess it turned me into a werewolf."

"Okay, so all you need is control. You're obviously not particularly murderous, so I'm pretty sure I can teach you. No shooting necessary!"

"There's no cure," Sam told him, but he looked hopeful and his voice was broken.

"No, there's no cure," Stiles agreed, "but there are plenty of werewolves running around that don't eat anyone or maul anyone, and it's definitely not your fault that your alpha was a dickbag. Sure, most of them have packs, but I'm pretty sure that all you really need is some training and a support system of some sort and you'll be fine."

They only looked half-convinced, so Stiles continued. "Look, just give me a week or two and if you're not making any progress, it's not like you can't do it the other way then."

"What if I hurt you?" she whispered.

Stiles frowned. "I'll admit that having a bad ass creeperwolf around is sort of comforting in the training of a new wolf," he mused, "but I'm pretty sure it'll be okay."

*

It turned out that the reason Castiel was disturbingly strong was that he was an  _angel_ , so crisis averted. (Also, that mountain ash thing? Totally the best!) Stiles put Madison through a training program similar to Scott's (only Madison was way calmer and more focused than Scott, and she was a really quick learner) and nobody died.

Sam and Dean were Hunters, although relatively fair ones. They mostly went after angry ghosts and demons an suspicious deaths, so it was a lot like following the Code.

They stayed in Frisco for a month, watched Madison transform safely, and then left her to her life, although Stiles was pretty sure she and Sam were going to do give the long distance thing a try and she and Stiles were definitely going to be pen pals.

Stiles did one full job with the Winchesters (a ghost job) before it was time to go home, and they shoved as much training into him as they could before they brought him back once they realized that the 'trouble' he'd gotten himself into back home was the supernatural kind. They weren't thrilled he was palling around with werewolves, but they agreed that the werewolves seemed to be keeping it in their mouths and were acting more as boon than blight to the town, so they let it go.


	5. Change of State

Unfortunately, his homecoming was much less joyous than he'd pictured.

His dad was happy to see him, at least, so that was nice, but when he got upstairs, his window was open like Derek had been there and then  _left_.

Stiles called him, because  **that** was weird behavior.

"Hey, I'm back! Which I'm guessing you know, because I'm pretty sure you were in my room."

"You smelled wrong. Where were you?"

"With my cousins. Dad got a little worried about what's been happening here and sent me to pick up better habits somewhere else."

"They were hunters."

"Yeah, I eventually figured that out. They're pretty bad ass, and check it: they were totally willing to train me. SuperStiles, here I come! Just wait until you see my moves."

"I won't."

"What? Obviously you will, you massive creeper. I mean, I'd like to say I'll probably never need it, but our lives are pretty much one big horror show and being the weak link is starting to be my thing."

"Stay away from us, and we'll stay away from you."

Pieces started to click in Stiles's head. "No, but- You're making it sound like I'm not-"

"I can't have another hunter near my pack."

"Listen, I'd love to say I'm too proud to beg here, but we both know I'm not. So why don't you just tell me what I need to do to get my place back and I'll let you know when it's done."

"Find someone else to pant after."

"Low blow," Stiles gasped at that. He hadn't thought it was a secret or anything. When you spend all your time with people who think starting conversations with "you smell..." is acceptable behavior, you pretty much give up on having secret crushes. But for some (wrong, misguided) reason, he'd thought it was going to stay unspoken. He'd thought that they were at least not actively trying to hurt each other anymore, even if they weren't friends. Maybe it was true before he left. Now, apparently, Derek was going straight for the throat.

"Fine," Stiles said shakily. "I'll let you know when it's done." He might not have much dignity, but it turned out he actually  _did_ have some pride, so he hung up.

*

The thing was, Stiles was hurt and angry and bitter, but he wasn't totally confused as to why Derek was suddenly all 'fuck off and die'. Dude had issues. And, hey, he wasn't actually the only werewolf in town, so... 

But, when Stiles called Scott, Scott was similarly reluctant to hang.

"Sorry, dude, it's just- I mean, I know I told Allison I'd wait, but I'm kind of starting to see why Hunters are a bad idea."

"What," Stiles couldn't even  _ask_ , because this was a joke, right? Stiles was definitely not being compared to Scott's homicidal ex-girlfriend; not after he had gotten kidnapped and beat up and nearly died more times than he could count (no thanks to Scott) and never wavered, not once. All because his cousins sometimes killed things that were eating people and Stiles wanted to learn it so he could help the pack do just that.

_This_ hurt. This hurt so freaking bad, it was like someone actually reached into his chest and grabbed his heart with ice cold hands and Stiles just  _couldn't_ , if Scott was serious.

Please let Scott not have been serious. "Um, I'm not 'a Hunter', I'm your best friend."

"Who comes from a hunter family. Listen, I've been spending a lot of time with Issac and I, y'know, I feel like I want to protect him. All that stuff with Allison and Jackson and Gerard...It's probably better if we just don't get too close for a while."

Scott and Stiles had been best friends since childhood. They passed "too close" before the age of six. Stiles taught Scott how to be a werewolf. He tried to get Derek arrested so Scott could  _play a freaking game_  and get the girl. Stiles has been there for freakouts and near maulings, and he was just as betrayed as everyone else by the Scott and Gerard partnership. Stiles was-

Stiles was done. Derek didn't want him, despite mutual life-savings. Scott didn't trust him despite a lifetime of proof. Stiles's dad would probably worry less if he wasn't in Beacon Hills. Issac didn't even like him and Erica and Boyd were long gone. Lydia had Jackson (he assumed. The Whittemores had moved to England or something, but Stiles wouldn't give up magically confirmed true love because of a little bit of distance) and there wasn't really anyone else.

*

He gave it a full week to blow over. A week of no friends and no phone calls and no Derek creeping about, and it was shitty and lonely and he was over it. His dad had noticed, even busy being the sheriff again, that things were strained in Stiles's social circle. He didn't seem all that surprised when Stiles finally floated the possibility of going away again.

He called Dean, because they were the closest even if Stiles was a bookworm like Sam and thought Cas was made of even more sunshine and rainbows than Danny.

"Hey, so, turns out that thick and thin stuff sounds a lot more like werewolf propaganda once you've been kicked out of your pack," Stiles tried to joke.

Dean, because Dean was awesome, didn't try to make him talk about it. He just called them all asshats and told Stiles to pack a bag and get his ass out to Santa Fe if he wanted to join up.


	6. Chapter 6

Living on the road was an experience. The boys moved around too much to enroll him in schools, so Stiles completed his final year of high school online in addition to going through Hunting 101. He moved around, he killed stuff, he met people. Stiles's dad being Sheriff meant there hadn't been a lot of vacations, and while they'd gone on the occasional trip up or down the coast, Stiles hadn't really experienced that much of America.

More, even though the majority of people they interacted with were normals, Stiles got a chance to meet his fair share of supernaturals as well. Some were like Madison: the reason they were there, but able to be solved non-violently. Some were like Stiles: around because they took offence to trouble in their area. A few were like the boys and hunted on the regular. And some were just people they met that happened to know about the other side.

Stiles wouldn't have said that he was especially good at making friends, in general. Something about having only one friend in school for the first ten years seemed to indicate that he was a bit challenged in that area, and Stiles wouldn't even pretend he wasn't aggravating. He got along well with most of the supernaturals they came across though. Maybe it was because he was more fascinated than afraid of them, or because he wanted to get to know them for reasons beyond how to kill them. Maybe it was because Stiles could be somewhat amoral and didn't pull any holier than thou crap on them.

Whatever the reason, Stiles ended up with an impression of the supernatural world that included multiple creatures's viewpoints and was able to coalesce into a big-picture view that let him see patterns in the interactions. 

For example, there was a werewolf thing called an Emissary. It was basically what it sounded like, only a werewolf emissary was a druid and they did magical stuff for the pack. Deaton had been the Hale emissary, which was how/why he taught Stiles about the mountain ash. 

Druids were kind of a weird thing, because you couldn't be one without the magic, but it was the knowledge that designated who was and wasn't a druid. Stiles wasn't exactly sure if "spark" was just Deaton's metaphor or the actual term for a person like him, but Stiles had the magical ability necessary to become a druid, and thus an emissary, but didn't currently have the proper training.

Similarly, there were magic-users and gifted people that served in the emissary position for other types of supernaturals. Missouri, for instance, was a psychic who had seemingly adopted the Winchester line. She wasn't a druid because she didn't have the knowledge of shifting, but she served the same basic purpose of go-between and adviser for the hunters. 

Stiles might not have a pack anymore, but werewolves were still in his wheelhouse. He spent more time searching them out and learning their culture than other types of creatures, and he could admit to himself that being an emissary interested him.

It was the urge to know everything, the need to help out, but it was also that an emissary belonged to a pack. Stiles couldn't actually imagine joining a pack that wasn't in Beacon Hills but he couldn't deny that he wanted one to call his own.

Even though it wasn't the same as a pack, he ended up with a lot more pen pals than just Madison and sometimes he shared research with them or helped them with problems or crashed with them while he was passing through.

Stiles had always been the research guy, and he was a freaking wizard with wikipedia, but he'd almost tripled his weird knowledge with a source pool of two hunters, an angel, and an assortment of supernatural contacts from around the country.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a google-fu expert like Stiles, so if anyone here has insights into how living on the road affects ADHD, please drop a comment. Is it a problem because there's a lack of stability, or does all the new stimuli appeal? Is it hard to get your prescriptions filled if you're traveling or can you just like skype your regular psychiatrist nowadays? THINGS I DON'T KNOW.  
> Also, sorry there's no plot or dialogue here. I tried. It should be in the next one.


	7. First Hunt

His first real hunt had gone like this:

There had been reports of weird geological happenings in a small town in North Dakota. Unexplained burts of wind kept happening and a foul, swamplike stench was reportedly coming out of the neighboring woods. Also, animal attacks.

So they checked it out. Enter problem one. Dean and Sam did the obvious thing and posed as gas inspectors. Stiles was way too young to pass as an official. What he could pose as was excitable student, so he cheerfully told everyone that he was a geology student a few towns over and that this was potentially the most exciting thing to happen in their area since that oil, and hey, weird about the wind right? Had anyone heard anything interesting that would make a good anecdote? Weird about the animals though too, do they think it's the gas making them crazy? Do they know what kind of animals? Had anyone seen anything? Was the gas hallucinatory?

Turns out, manic students get told a lot, because everyone wants to gossip and no one is afraid of looking crazy to a kid.

Eventually, they got the right pieces of information to ID the problem. Birds, talons, a foul smell that traveled. Enter problem number two.

"A harpy?" Stiles bitched, " _really_? That is, like, seriously non-native."

*

"Soooo, harpies," Stiles said finally, one they'd gone through their resources. (All three of them, which was new and exciting for Stiles.) "I feel like we have two major problems here, because one: they seem to be some kind of minor god, so that sucks, and two: they keep turning into wind, and, like, how do you kill air?"

"You can actually kill most of the old gods pretty easily with a stake through the heart." Dean countered, "as long as they don't get you first."

"Like vampires?"

"Actually," Sam corrected, "stakes don't really work for vampires. You need to behead them."

"Dude, that's  _so wrong_. My whole life is a lie!" Stiles whined.

Dean, the asshole, laughed. "Sorry, kid."

"Also, vampires, eugh. My werewolf friends totally promised me vampires didn't exist. And yes, I recognized the irony."

"Dean dated a vampire," Sam said cheekily, "so they definitely exist."

" _Really_?" Stiles asked excitedly.

"No," Dean said firmly.

" _Yes_ ," Sam confirmed. "I didn't really support them at the time, but looking back, it was pretty romantic. The guy was totally head over heels for Dean."

"Dude," Stiles said appreciatively.

"Benny wasn't my boyfriend and we have a job to do. The harpy takes form when it attacks, so we'll just have to get it to come out and play."

Dean was a good son, so Sam and Stiles Rock, Paper, Scissorsed it out for who was bait. Stiles won, so he got another new experience to add to his list. They were all armed (best case scenario would be that Sam stabbed the thing when it came at him and no one got injured.) Stiles had a gun and a back up stake, because he was a better shot than he was a tussler, but they were pretty sure bullets wouldn't kill the thing.

The kill went surprisingly well - there turned out to only be one harpy, which they hadn't been confident about. Sam got knocked down but Dean got her before she could claw him up. Stiles didn't end up being necessary, but he helped track down the supplies they needed to make the stakes and no one got injured, so he still felt accomplished.

They burned the body to get rid of weird monster evidence. It smelled about ten times worse than the already awful harpy odor, and was easily the worst part of the whole job. Then they packed up and hit the road, on to the next case.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles's dad being the Sheriff pre-disposed Stiles to certain skills. Case-building was one. Stiles was so used to the steps and the presentation of cases that he often put together crime boards for everything he was working on. He knew where to look for clues and what things went together.

Another thing he learned because of his dad's job (though less likely to make anyone proud) was how to get out of a rough spot. Stiles knew loopholes in code, he knew how to talk himself out of trouble, and he knew how to pick locks. He knew basic self-defense, and he knew how to be smart about being safe.

One thing he might have learned from his father the cop, but didn't, was firearms. His dad was good with guns - really good - but Stiles had actually learned to shoot from his mom. She'd been some sort of rodeo girl when she was young, and could do all sorts of amazing things. She'd been a better shot than even his dad, and had taught Stiles how to care for and clean a weapon at a very young age. (Stiles also knew how to ride a horse and do some cool things with a rope.)

He'd never had a reason to question it until the Winchesters mentioned that while it was their dad that taught them to hunt, it was their mother's side that had the lineage. Claudia and Mary Campbell had been the two huntress heirs to the line, and both had gotten out. Unfortunately for them, their sons had jumped right back in. (Although hunting or not, Stiles didn't identify as a Hunter. Too many bad Argent memories and supernatural biases.)

The Campbells, according to Dean, were just as shitty as he would expect from an old hunting line. More importantly, his mother's father's name had apparently  _not_ been the strange mish-mash of letters that Stiles was saddled with, but Samuel. Which Stiles was  _in no way bitter about_ , really. Maybe just a little. Seriously, Mom, what the fuck?

 *

Hunter training was like five parts physical fitness, three parts knowledge and problem solving, two parts sass and spy skills, one part sticking your nose in other people's business, and an extra dash of being shady.

Fitness aside, Stiles was already pretty awesome at the core requirements.

Knife fighting was not a thing he was good at. At all.

Stiles honestly felt like he spent all his time training. Sam and Dean were 100% less crazy than Finstock, but they also made him play with 100% more sharp and deadly weapons. (Okay, maybe not  _100_ % 100%...Finstock was impressively crazy.) 

When he's not practicing his knife fighting and other calisthenics, he's going through the Winchester bestiary which is freaking amazing for being only one generation old. He'd had access to the Argent bestiary previously, and the Winchester one was more like a college notebook than the fancy tome they'd had, but information-wise it was hella solid. Like, seriously, John Winchester was a  _thorough_ motherfucker. Respect.

Stiles is straight up memorizing as much as he possibly can out of it, both because it's fascinating and because knowledge is power. He feels like each extra fact ups his life expectancy. Stiles is comfortable enough with his luck to say that he isn't going to encounter ferocious beasts and then have time to look them up before they eat him. (He's already trying to figure out how to get a copy of the Campbell bestiary without actually having to interact with them. Two or even three bestiaries aren't enough to cover all the possibilities out there. He's sure that he'll still encounter plenty of things he's never heard of, but every little bit helps.)


	9. Hunting in the 21st Century

"Uhg, what is that?" Stiles asked.

They were staring at a corpse, having broken into the morgue to look at the latest victim of what seemed to be supernatural killings.

Same shit, different day.

The 'that' in question was a triangular symbol carved into the chest of the dead guy.

"I don't recognize it, but it looks ritualistic," Sam hypothesized.

"Looks like if we identify this mark, we know what we're up against." Dean agreed. "You don't do that accidentally."

Stiles whipped out his phone and took a picture of the mark. "Let's see what I can turn up."

Dean frowned. "You got a contact?"

"Nah, man, image search. This is freaky, and therefore someone probably took a picture of it. There's only so many variations of this symbol cut into a dead body, so we should get hits on it. Bingo! 241 matches found. Just gotta weed through it." He side-eyed Dean's flip phone. "Dude, you've gotta get with the times. Technology is your friend. You too Sam! Aaaaaand...Valkyries. What do you know?"

Sam stared at him for a second. "So new phones, huh?"

*

The good news was that Valkyries are Norse and pretty much everything in Norse mythology can die. Stiles couldn't find anything that suggested you need a special weapon, either, you just need to be able to take out a warrior princess. Stiles mostly intended to just shoot her.

Sadly knowing  _what_ you're dealing with and how to kill it is only half the battle. They still have to figure out who and/or where it is.

Stiles crossrefrenced the incidents of weird deaths with the marking and ill-gotten statistics on who was in the same areas at the time while the boys did the regular, victim-based tracking down of leads.

They met in the middle, and the middle was a woman named Hilda Wood.

They found her in a bar, attempting to start a fight. That seemed to be her MO: induce a fight, take the winner out back, mark him for Odin and then kill him. A guy threw a punch about ten seconds after they walked in the door, and Dean loves a good bar fight so he jumped in.

Dean won, of course. Sam and Stiles had already relocated to the alley to wait by the time Hilda brought Dean out. She managed to subdue him while she monologued about how men in this era are weak and cowardly and disappointing, and ultimately unfit to do anything but feed Hel without serious effort from her.

"Yeah, well, winter is coming!" Stiles said as he shot her dead. (He mentally gave himself extra points for making a Ragnarok pun to a Norse creature.) "Really? Nothing? You don't get HBO on your shitty motel room TVs?"

"When we're in our rooms, we're normally sleeping or researching how to kill the monsters."

"Right, obviously. I've been doing that for two years now but I'm not a crazy caveman. Wow, this actually explains a lot about Derek. He's kind of your age. Let me introduce you to another wonder of the modern world: multitasking! Plus, GoT is basically research."

"TV shows are not a valid source," Sam protested.

"Yeah, people keep saying that. And yet,  _blatantly untrue,_ " Stiles insisted.


	10. Jackson

 The Valkyrie hunt marked the definite point where the boys started treating Stiles more as an equal than a kid. They were still training him, but it felt different.

The problem with being trusted, of course, was that it came with responsibilities. Responsibilities like getting sent on a solo case because he still wasn't good enough with a knife to be helpful with the vampire (eugh) and someone needed to deal with a ghost job two states over. Not that he had anywhere better to be for the holidays this year.

 

He'd been thinking he could wrap it up quickly, but it was a ghost job, and those relied heavily on research at the local library. Late December was literally the worst time to do deep work in the old records. The library had been closed as often as it was open, and he could only hope he'd get what he needed before it closed again for the New Year.

He was distracted from his melancholy by the sound of his phone.

"Y'ello," Stiles answered flippantly. He didn't check the caller ID, but he knew it wasn't his dad or Sam or Dean since they all had custom ringtones.

"Stilinksi."

Stiles hadn't heard from any part of the pack since the day he went back to the Winchesters. He didn't bother changing his number or anything, but the pack had made their position clear and he hadn't expected them to call. Or answer, if he were to ever try calling them. (He had maybe blocked Scott's number after a week or two of silence, because at least that way he could pretend Scott was regretting everything and just couldn't reach him as opposed to not even trying to call. Schrodinger's apology. He hadn't blocked anyone else though, because if thing got to a point where _Derek Hale_  wanted to apologize...well Stiles still didn't want them dead.) But, that was very definitely Jackson's voice, a little more British and super unexpected.

"Jackson?" he asked, because he had to check. "Is...everything okay?"

"I'm in Beacon Hills for the first time since I  _died_ , you are not, and Lydia and Danny are both dating the same guy. Everything is not alright." 

No contact with the pack meant no information about the pack, so he hadn't heard anything about this. "What? Who!?"

"I don't know and I don't care. If they were going to do that with someone, it should have been me."

Stiles agreed, because,  _greedy_ , but true. Jackson and Danny always had a kind of codependent relationship, and Lydia and Jackson had already proven their true love devotion with the whole Kamina cure. A triad would have seemed like a natural progression.

"I feel like it goes against the laws of the universe for me to agree with you, but you're not wrong."

"Where are you, Stiles?" Jackson asked.

"I don't know if you heard, man, but I've been ex-communicated. I've been living with my cousins since I was rudely invited to fuck off forever. Currently I'm alone in a motel in Reno. Merry fucking Christmas."

"I need to get out of here," Jackson admitted, and it was about a thousand times more honest than their hate-hate relationship allowed. "Think you'd be willing to host? I'll bring booze."

Stiles had to chase down a lead tomorrow morning, but Beacon Hills was only about three hours away, so he agreed even though it was crazy. Maybe Jackson would even want to help with the ghost hunt as a distraction. "I'll text you the address."

***

Jackson managed to get them both spectacularly drunk, thanks both to his fake ID and the local werewolf girl in London who had taught him the secrets of recreational wolfsbane. 

Apparently Danny and Lydia's mystery boyfriend was not only another werewolf, but an Alpha. Stiles couldn't help his wince because he understood Jackson well enough to know this would set him back years of progress on his insecurity and self esteem issues. For Lydia to date someone more  _powerful_ than him...ouch.

It was probably residual sympathy from that revelation that caused Stiles's genuine happiness that London had been good to Jackson. The local pack had made him welcome and worked to help him adapt to being a werewolf. He was still competitive in school, but he was less likely to  _need_ to be the best.

Jackson had also publicly taken the fall for the police van/restraining order debacle, more or less without prompting and despite his crippling fear of not being a perfect son. Stiles's dad had mentioned it when it happened, but Jackson didn't bring it up at all.

Stiles gave the highlights of his own year- Scott's dismissal (and Derek's), the Winchesters and hunter training, and ghosts and vampires and valkyries, oh my!

Stiles wasn't black-out drunk when they started making out, although he was pretty darn wasted. They were both drunk, and sad, and lonely, but they had both been taking charge of their destinies these last few months. Through some Christmas miracle, they didn't hate each other tonight, and they seemed to have subconsciously decided to trust each other, for whatever reason.

***

In the morning, they ate a greasy breakfast, tracked down a ghost, and somehow failed to get awkward about the night before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Excommunicated (no hyphen) means to be officially thrown out of the Catholic Church. Specifically. I know this. Stiles knows this. Using it here is a bad pun, not a correct use of the English language.


	11. Chapter 11

After he and Jackson parted ways in Reno, Stiles headed up to Frisco to check in on Madison. 

 

 

*

 

 

Sam and Madison hadn't worked out as an item. Stiles got why. She was a werewolf, they only met because he wanted to kill her, and long distance relationships suck. Nobody had any hard feelings and she and Stiles still stayed in touch. But it's...weird for him. Stiles had never really given it much thought, but Beacon Hills didn't really have a lot of casual dating.

Stiles's mom and dad had basically been soulmates, and the sheriff had shown no interest in getting back out there. Even though Scott's dad was the worst and Melissa had thrown him out, the only date he could remember her going on after was the one they'd ruined with Peter. Lydia's parents were divorced and hated each other, but still hadn't moved on at all. Lydia and Jackson were on and off again, but that was mostly about their power issues and they were still true love enough to break a curse. Same with Scott and Allison, really. Danny dated around a little, but only because all the guys he liked were douchebags, not because he didn't want his one and only.

So watching a casual, honest, adult relationship end happily (or at least amicably) was outside Stiles's experience. It made him think, cautiously, that maybe it was something he might like to understand better. Maybe even experience. It was the first time he could look at a relationship and think  _Things don't always have to end badly_  since he first realized the effect his mom's death would have on them.

*

Madison was doing really well. She still didn't have a pack, but it looked like Stiles was correct in predicting that a stable support system would be enough to keep a lone wolf from turning into an unstable omega. She had Stiles to talk to about supernatural bullshit, friends to talk to about human bullshit, and a job she enjoyed (since she had killed her old, shitty boss.)

Stiles shared with her Jackson's secret for getting drunk, but she mostly shrugged it off. "Part of being a girl - and being an adult - is learning not to drink without someone watching out for you," she told him. "A lot of that is making sure you don't get taken advantage of, sure, but it's also about being kept in line. My friends will all look out for me, but they can't control a werewolf." She laughed. "I'm happy, I'm healthy, I'm alive. Staying sober to enjoy that isn't much of a sacrifice."

She let him crash on her couch and basically treated him like her favorite little brother until Stiles was called for their next job.

*

All in all, the holiday season had turned out way better than expected.

*******

 

Stiles and Jackson didn't lose touch after Christmas.

In fact, Jackson became his best friend, and it was weird because they had always hated each other but they still knew each other at least as well as he and Scott ever did. They had always known the sensitive places to prod at, but now they were united against the outside world and both of them were good friends to have at your back.

(It was weird too because Danny and Lydia had both rejected the option of a long-distance friendship with Jackson, but Stiles was making it work just fine. What's an ocean between used-to-be-mortal-enemies?)

Stiles made Jackson's ringtone Werewolves of London, because  _how could he not_. Jackson made Stiles's a soundbite from the BBC Merlin, because he was in England now and was still a dick.

  
[" _Nerrrrrrd!_ " Stiles insisted, "how did this even happen?"]

*

They skyped a lot to stay in touch and Jackson introduced Stiles to his contact in the local pack, who also happened to be the emissary.

Jackson was in almost the same position that Scott had been when he was first turned - he had an alpha and he hadn't fully split from that, but he wasn't fully pack either. The difference was that while Scott had tried to distance himself, Jackson had effectively been abandoned. He was still a beta, but only technically. Packs were least likely to feel threatened by him, and therefore he wasn't as likely to be challenged in territorial disputes. (An affiliated beta had the possibility to be scouting your land, and a full omega was a liability because it was so likely to go rouge.)

The pack in his area of London was old enough to be secure in their position, but young enough to not be stodgy. Their emissary was thin forty-something named Steven with dark eyes, prominent ears, and a penchant for punk rock. He blamed both the music and the magic on his older brother. "He became a wizard," Steven explained, "but I was called to be a druid. It's like that sometimes. Even when you don't have a reason to go in a particular direction, there are paths you're drawn to."

It solidified Stiles's plans to train as an emissary. "Where do I sign up?"

Steven laughed, which was a disturbingly brittle sound. "You need to apprentice. You don't necessarily have to learn with the same pack you'll end up with, although most of us do it that way and eventually inherit. But you need the experience of actual pack life and how to deal with it before anyone in their right mind would consider you an emissary candidate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (/In a land of myth and a time of magic/  
> "Hold on, is that me? Is that my ringtone?"  
> Jackson smirked. "I know, I really wanted to go with the shut up compilation, but I couldn't get it to work properly."  
> "Fuck you. If we're playing that way, there is a long list of creative insults waiting to become your ringtone, fur face."  
> Jackson just laughed.)
> 
> ********
> 
>  
> 
> [A/N: in case you are wondering, Steven's brother is def. Ethan Rayne. Because I love him.]


	12. Meg

Meg was...unexpected. Stiles thinks she's awesome, of course. She's got a voice like if Minnie Mouse worked for a sex line (and that should be mentally scarring, but it totally works on her) and everything she says is dry and cutting and unimpressed. She popped up and started quipping, and Stiles fell a little bit in love.

He's not trying to say that he loved her any less once Cas showed up, but he was definitely thrown for a loop when they shared the most epic, romanti-sexually charged kiss he'd every seen and  _no one fucking blinked_.

Stiles  _maybe_ gaped unattractively at everyone until Dean shruged at him.

"I'm not saying I'm not possessive, man, but I really don't do jealousy."

"I'm simultaneously impressed by your chillness and grossed out by how much I know about your sex life."

"Hear, hear," Sam agreed. "There are some things you don't really need to know about your brother, and I know **all of them**."

"Cas and I, we're soulmates. His name is written on my bones - and I mean that literally. That's  _fate_. That's forever.  Like basically everything else in our lives, it sounds a lot better in fairy tales than it is when you're living it. All of our other relationships are about something else. They're about choices and passion and Team Free Will." 

"So, it's like a full poly relationship though? I know how they work, but I've never met anyone in one IRL, y'know?"

"I mean, I don't really know how other people do it, but I dated a girl named Lisa while Cas was dead, and then for a while after he came back. Cas and Meg have been a thing since before that, I think, and he got married when he had amnesia after he died."

Stiles glanced back at Meg and Cas to see why they hadn't contributed and found them  _still making out_.

"Um, wow, okay. Wow. I thought angels weren't supposed to be lusty and passionate," Stiles remarked, still staring.

Sam snorts. "Yeah, we knew a guy, Gabriel, whose favorite form of communication was appearing in porn. He'd be starring in it and then turn to the screen and say something to you." 

"Dude. Was he hot?" Stiles asked.

Sam glared at him and walked away, pointedly refusing to answer.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Stiles called after him. "Inquiring minds!"

 

***

Meg didn't stick around very long - she seemed to be more of a free agent than other parts of the Winchester's group - but she was a lot less inclined to get down to business than the others he'd met seemed to be. It took him almost a full day to realize it was because she didn't actually have business there. Oh, they talked, exchanging info and asking for favors, but insults and make-outs aside, Meg was totally just there to chill. She grabbed a few beers, made herself at home, and prodded at everyone's weak spots in a way he finally diagnosed as concern, like she was making sure they'd all hold up under pressure.

He wasn't stupid enough to say it was sweet out loud, but it really, really was.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do intend for this to get into plot progression at some point, and not just be a series of character vignettes. Obviously controlling my story is not something I excel at. Also, sorry this is so freaking short. I figured something was better than nothing :/


	13. Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter because someone pointed out my Cas has never spoken and I haven't updated in forever. The chapter that was supposed to be this chapter is still not any closer to getting done.

Hot romance aside, Cas was an interesting mix of overwhelming sadness and childlike joy. Sometimes he was so intense it almost hurt and other times he looked straight through you.

Stiles had liked him immediately, but he hadn't really understood him during the angel reveal, or when Meg came through. He hadn't understood until Castiel told him about what Team Free Will meant to him.

"Meg says I have 'daddy issues.'" Cas stated, because Cas **stated** absolutely everything, including feelings and questions. "The same flavor as Dean has," he continued, in what was clearly a continuation of what Meg said.

Stiles knew a little bit about John Winchester, but probably not enough to really get it.

"Angels have roles to play. Jobs, in heaven. Questioning them... Even Lucifer, as he fell, was playing his part. When I first met Dean, I was still Heaven's tool. Even as they started to influence me, I obeyed my orders. I gave Heaven my own sister to torture, because I thought it was right to do as they asked." He turned to look at Stiles, intense this time. "It wasn't. I started to question _Heaven_ , to disobey, but I still trusted God. I went to find him, to tell him what was happening and beg him to make it all better." His attention faded back out, eyes distant. "He already knew. He left us a message that he just didn't care. I left home, rebelled, lost everything. The angels that are left - we no longer interact. I am fallen."

Stiles gracelessly fumbled Cas into a cuddlehug. "That's super shitty and I'm sorry."

He held on while Cas tentatively patted Stiles's back in acknowledgement of the hug.

"You've got Dean and Sam and Meg and me though, man, you're not alone, and we love you. I love you."

Cas startled. "I... suppose I love you too," he mused.

Stiles snorted. Dean might be all about his stoicism, and Sam wasn't all that mushy, and Meg was a demon, but Stiles was a 21st century man, and he was incredibly willing to get his goopy, fluffy emotions all over Cas. "Damn right you do! And I'm going to remind you all the time, because we're family and sometimes I get lonely too, okay?"

"Okay," Cas agreed solemnly.

*


	14. Emma

"Stiles, I need you on a job," Dean barked.

 

"Seriously? What's up?"

 

"Guard duty."

 

"Two years ago next week, Dean slept with an Amazon. She had a baby," Sam explained.

 

Stiles had read the Amazon entry in their bestiary. "Don't Amazons kill their fathers?"

 

"Yeah," Dean said shortly. "Either the daughter kills the father or she dies."

 

"I assume you don't actually intend me to guard **you**."

 

"Of course not," Sam said, sounding offended.

 

Dean smirked and handed him a piece of paper with an address on it. "Get going."

 

*****

 

Stiles had gotten used to supernatural creatures being like _mind-bendingly hot_ , but honestly, Emma's not. Maybe it's because she's family, or because he knows she's actually only two years old, but she looks like a normal girl. She's definitely not ugly or anything, but her dad is a hunter that basically everyone on the planet is hot for and Emma's a supernatural creature that blends into the crowd.

 

Stiles likes her. Stiles likes he a lot. He got there a day before the deadline, so they get drunk and get to know each other. There was a lot to cover - from Emma being an Amazon, to the fact that they were cousins, to Stiles's life story, to the astronomy major Emma was currently working towards, to the fact that she hadn't killed Dean.

 

Emma shrugged. "Honestly, I'm sure I would have done it if he hadn't come in looking for that flask. I wasn't a top student, but I'm not a saint and that place is a cult. You get three days of childhood, and that term is a joke. They're everything you know, except I met Dean. Plus, he didn't want to kill me. He could have, and he didn't." She shrugged again. "Makes a girl feel special, y'know?"

 

Stiles smiled. "Yeah, I do actually."

 

"I think my mother loved me. I was her first birth, and she was more sentimental than she might have been."

 

"What happens to the whole pact with the gods thing now that you didn't complete the ritual?"

 

"Of course there's backlash, but the deal is for bearing children. You really think Harmonia cares if the guy gets murdered or not? The whole eating fingers, murdering men thing is just about enforcing the deal. If your daughter doesn't finish the ritual, you don't go into the breeding again, and she doesn't at all. That's the consequence. You have to have babies the way everyone else does."

 

"That's why they have me watching you."

 

"Yeah. They figure Mommy Dearest won't get pregnant and the Amazons will realize I'm alive and come to kill me."

 

****

 

As a hunter, you're mostly either on a case or without one. Sometimes you'll be chasing something, and other times it just finds you, but you know when to be on. Bodyguard duty isn't like that. It's more like Beacon Hills, knowing peace won't last but not knowing what's coming next or when. There's no guarantee the Amazons will come for Emma (although they probably will), and less certainty that they'd find her.

 

Just because he's not actually on downtime doesn't mean he can be _on_ all the time, either. After that first night, the danger begins but the _threat_ doesn't.

 

Emma laughs off his worries about not being alert enough. "It's sweet that you think your job is protecting me, but I'm still an Amazon. _I'm_ the muscle;  _you're_ here so Dean doesn't lead them to me. I appreciate the backup, but chill out. I'm not going down without a serious fight."

 

***

 

The Amazons don't descend on them. Nothing happens for so long that Stiles starts to worry how they'll know the threat is over. What if they think she's safe and leave too soon? But on the sixth day, a woman shows up. Emma is calm when she sees her, but Stiles is so keyed up he's afraid he's going to start threatening the very male mailman. This woman is ringing all kinds of alarms in his head.

 

"Hello, mother," Emma says, still calm.

 

They do actually look alike, Stiles thinks, even as he scrambles for his gun. The woman is pretty, though still not in that supernatural way he's used to recognizing. Her hair is redder and she doesn't look as vulnerable as Emma always does, but there's something undeniable in the shape of their faces.

 

"You're a hard person to find," the woman says, and she sounds weirdly approving. 

 

Emma just nods. "Did you come to kill me?"

 

"No. But then, I think you guessed as much." Her eyes flew to Emma's necklace. "I never wanted children, you know," she confessed. "I love you and I'm glad you're alive, but I'm going to be just as happy as you when they strike our names from the records."

 

"Wait, what?" Stiles demanded.

 

Emma's mother looked at him like he was a worm.

 

"I told you, it's a cult," Emma explained. "If I killed Dean, everything would have been fine. If he killed me, a loss, but I was a failure. But if we both live, that means it's possible. And if we all keep living...if there's no divine retribution or catastrophic outcome, then even if I'm caught and killed, it's a choice other girls might make again. They're better off pretending none of it ever happened and never letting any of the the other girls know there are alternate outcomes. If my mother doesn't kill me and restore her cycle, they'll wash their hands of both of us."

 

"So you're safe."

 

Emma's eyes bled red and, **oh** , there it was. In the bestiary drawings it had been horrifying, but seeing it on Emma he could finally make out the inhuman elegance he'd been expecting. She looked regal in a way that he couldn't actually explain. "Goodbye, Mother."

 

Emma's mother nodded. "Goodbye, Daughter. I'm glad he was a good man."

 

She turned and left without so much as a hug, and Emma shut the door and regained her human face. "I'm safe," she agreed.

 

**

 

Stiles had kind of subconsciously expected Emma to decompress from that encounter with booze or weed or sex (or maybe all three.) Instead, she put on one of those nature documentaries about the ocean and made friendship bracelets while they chatted about things that weren't Amazons or absent parents.

 

*

 

He left Boston two days later with a new family member, promises to stay in touch, and a bad ass octopus bracelet on his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Sam & Dean moment in comments.


	15. Oz & Jordy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: I literally learned mid paragraph that Jordy was a teen, not a baby when he bit Oz. Mind:blown. I had to readjust old fics! I had to recalculate plotlines! It was intense.  
> Also I didn't read any of the extra Buffy things and am a little hazy on what did/did not actually happen in cannon/EU/fannon/etc. Did Jordy's parents get killed? This chapter is a disaster in planning.)

 

**

It was on the way back from Boston that Stiles met Oz. Roscoe had been hanging in there with Stiles through all of this cross-country stuff, but somewhere in New York, a suspicious rattling started up and Stiles had to bail off of the major roads to take a look before she broke down in the middle of traffic. He had his duct tape out and was cursing loudly when a small dude with purple hair offered a hand.

Dean had long since stopped offering to help out with Stiles's car since the sight of Roscoe's duct taped and corroded innards gave him apoplexy. Stiles privately thought his best bet for a fully functioning Roscoe was more Cas's area than Dean's anyway.

"Sure, thanks man," Stiles allowed. "I can normally get him working again, but if not, I'm boned."

The man had come from a very well-traveled looking shaggin' wagon. It wasn't garishly painted but Stiles thought it might have a chance at having seen Roscoe's share of shit.

*

Roscoe was pronounced DOA, although Oz thought he knew someone who might be able to "work some magic" to get him going again. Stiles wasn't sure if the magic was literal or metaphorical, but he had been through way too much shit with his car not to try it. Unfortunately, that meant he had a few days to kill while they waited for the girl to get back into town.

Stiles says "they" because Oz was apparently in town playing a show, and he would be hanging around for a while. Dingoes Ate My Baby was a reunion show of Oz's high school band who had maybe been a sort of big deal at the time and who Stiles had definitely never heard of. Oz had offered to let Stiles stay with him and his younger cousin and since Stiles didn't have better options or unlimited cash, he accepted.

Oz wasn't from New York, and although he knew the area and had a place that seemed fairly homey, Stiles didn't think he'd really settled down there either. His cousin - Jordy - was 22 and fairly chill. They did a lot of meditation stuff and had some charms that looked pretty legit.

Stiles couldn't get a read on how much they knew.

*

"You're in the know, right?" Flora Munslow asked, quick and no-nonsense.

Stiles hadn't quite perfected his resting magical radar. Deaton had displayed the ability with Stiles himself, and Stiles was hoping that he would be able to talk Stephen into teaching him eventually if he didn't find a closer pack to apprentice with. He was fairly confident, however, that Flora was talking about the supernatural.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed.

"Good, full disclosure then. Basically, I can curse your car."

Stiles startled hard. "Whoa, man, I'm not sure-"

"It won't hurt you," she assured him. "Your car is dead right now. You can probably do something with other types of magic, but you'd have to keep them up yourself, or get someone else to maintain them. With a curse, it's self-maintaining until it's broken."

"Because it's _evil_ ," Stiles stressed.

Flora rolled her eyes at him. "Because it feeds off **negative energy**. Every time you're in the car and you're angry or scared or hurt, that'll feed the spell. I wouldn't suggest it for most uses and I won't give you the spell, but I'll cast it on your car if you want."

"Are you sure it won't like-" Stiles pulled a face to convey something along the lines of "turn evil and possessed and eat me or something!"

Flora snorted. "What, like you don't get road rage?" she deadpanned. She looked at him again, more seriously. "I'm pretty confident, but you don't know me and I don't know your life. That was full disclosure. Take it or leave it, up to you. You got a few days to decide if you need it. Oz knows how to reach me."

*

Stiles took the time.

He let it turn over in the back of his mind, but first he wanted to have a chat with Oz and Jordy about what their connection to the supernatural actually was.

*

They were werewolves. Of course.

Stiles had never heard of a group of two Omegas. There could be packs of two, like Laura and Derek, but Oz seemed to be the authority figure without being the Alpha. Maybe Erica and Boyd were like that now that they'd run away. Or maybe it was just that no one understood werewolf science as well as they all thought they did.

He didn't get their life story or anything, but he did ask they about how they had such great control. Apparently, Oz had had an incident, left to find help, and ended up in a monastery in Tibet. He could have stayed, but he'd come back to the US because he had a life here, and he'd taught Jordy the techniques he'd learned.

"So like, is there any way that you'd write up a lesson plan or something? Zen and the Art of the Werewolf? Because my method of teaching control involves a lot of antagonizing and personal risk, currently."

Oz hmmed but Jordy laughed. "Could be cool," he encouraged, and Stiles thought Jordy could probably get him some results.

*

Stiles had Oz call Flora the next day. It was time to get moving again. Cursing his Jeep still seemed stupid, but Stiles did a lot of stupid things on a regular basis. Not having to stop and duct tape his baby together in the middle of a chase scene might very well save his life, and Flora had been right that he spent a lot of his time in the car stressed out about something or other.

Flora was serious about keeping the spell secret. She wouldn't let him be in the room while she cast, but when he was finally reunited with his baby, it was running better than it had in years.

"There was enough negative energy built up to keep this ride going for a long time already. You shouldn't have to worry about feeding it. If it starts giving you shit, you can always give a ride to your angstiest friend or go visit someone you hate."

"Thanks. How much do I owe you?"

Flora stared at him again. "I can give you a number, or I can take it in trade," she finally offered him.

Stiles's eyebrows when up in question.

"A favor, of my choice, sometime in the future."

Stiles squinted at her. "Veto power on the favor?"

She pursed her lips. "Veto power with a good enough reason, I guess. Don't think you can just veto your way out of repaying me."

This, too, was stupid, but Stiles was on a roll today. "Deal."

She smiled, looking for all the world like a pleased Lydia Martin. "A pleasure doing business. Make sure you keep your contact information up to date. I **will** be cashing in that favor eventually."

 **

_Stiles left New York_ with three new contacts, a perfectly functional (cursed) Roscoe, a personal debt, and an increasingly suspicious Dean asking why the fuck he wasn't back yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genderfluid pronouns on the Jeep because its name is Roscoe but I was too lazy to go back and watch for what Stiles used in the show. I've ridden in 'he' cars but I am at heart an "all vehicles are ladies" person.


End file.
